


Three Hundred Years of Play (With Interest)

by ChromaticStasis



Category: Plunderer
Genre: Anime, Doggy Style, Erotica, F/M, First Time, Massage, Sex, plunderer - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-28
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:41:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26705404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChromaticStasis/pseuds/ChromaticStasis
Summary: "Three hundred years' worth.  If you want to play, I will oblige."
Relationships: Jail Murdoch/Nana Bassler
Comments: 6
Kudos: 18





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having a hard time finding anything in this fandom, so I made a thing. I hope you enjoy it. :)

_"Nana... three hundred years' worth. If you want to play, I will oblige."_

Nana's face heated at the memory of what Lieutenant Jail had said to her days ago, before their group set out on this part of their journey. Up to that point, she had been focused on Hina and Licht, on Lyne and Pele. She played damage control for Licht, and a shoulder to cry on for Hina. She was a source of encouragement for Lyne, and a boot to the ass for Pele. All the while, coming to terms with the fact that Licht, the object of her affection for centuries, simply was not hers.

He belonged to Hina.

While the realization hurt her, it was also an immense relief to see that somebody could get through to him and make him smile. Somebody in their world was able to get him to take off that damn mask and act human again. _Even if he is a total pervert,_ she smiled to herself at the jab. She consoled herself with that knowledge, and if she was honest with herself, getting over Licht was easier than she thought it would be. She did love him, in a way that made her want to see him happy, even if it wasn't with her.

So she moved forward, ever forward. Only now, she had friends to lean on.

They made a plan to take on Allthing and Althea. To undo the world they knew to make something more equitable, something more free. There was a lot to do, so her mind was always busy.

Except when it wasn't. Like now, when after their dinner meal in her mobile tavern, she spent time cleaning dishes. It was mindless work, and as a result, her mind wandered.

_If you want to play..._ The phrase, by itself, was innocent. He had said it to her centuries ago, when she was a child. But the way he said it that day, and the way he looked at her, was anything but. She squeezed her thighs together, then shifted her weight, just in case anybody was watching, making a show of the chores starting to get to her.

_Job done,_ she sighed and wiped the back of her hand across her forehead. Running a mobile tavern on a regular day was hot, greasy work. Luckily, today, it was just their little group, and while they could definitely eat, it was hardly the same as a packed house. She wiped down the bar and tables with a clean dish rag, put away her wares, and left the tables out to be put away later. She was getting antsy. She couldn't focus any more on her chores with the words Jail said to her rattling around in her brain.

Of all the people she expected to draw her attention, Mr. Conviction was hardly on her radar. He was always so serious, so dedicated to his job and his craft. Something must have changed when she sent him back in time. Or, maybe, he was warming up to her. Whatever it was, it lit a fire inside of her. His unexpected offer threw her off her guard, and she knows, she _knows_ that she blushed a deep shade of red when he offered to make good on his promise.

That pointed look he gave her. She shivered at the memory. That man never said anything he didn't mean. He never wasted words, or time. He had an uncanny ability to see through everybody's bullshit, and a talent for cutting to the chase. He could read people, even if he had a difficult time relating to them.

The bartender's curse. Picking up on these things without meaning to.

_Three hundred years' worth._ Her mind tried to make sense of that. She was used to being hit on. She _was_ a bartender, and she _did_ wear her shirt open to, ahem, _encourage_ her patrons to give more in tips. But this felt different. Similar, sure. She knew he wanted her, and she had every intention of having him.

Her blood ran hot at the thoughts passing through her mind. _This is ridiculous,_ she sighed to herself. She had one thing left to do before she could turn in for the night. She had to fill their water stores. A tavern was no good without its beer, and she had to keep brewing it while on the road. That wasn't new. Hers _was_ a mobile tavern. Every few days, she started a new batch, to keep her supply robust. This was one thing she could not blow off.

Responsibilities aside, Nana felt the pressure building, and with it, a genuine and growing hunger. She meant to put Jail to the test. This three hundred year promise. Did he intend to cram it all into one night? Or was there more to it than that?

Either way, she didn't see a down side.

She made it to the river and began the process of collecting the water into the barrels. Here, at the edge of their camp, listening to the water run, she made a decision. If, between now and making it to her bedroll, she ran into Jail, she would take him up on his offer. If she didn't and the night was uneventful, she'd simply have to relieve her own pressure.

_Again._

She loaded the hand cart with the now-full water barrels and prepared to pull them back to the bar. A good half-dozen quarter-kegs. Yeah, this was hefty. But she typically had no one to rely on, so she handled it with only minor struggle when she came to a divot in the ground.

Damn pot holes.

"And, six," she hoisted the last water barrel into storage, and sighed. She gave a cursory look around the bar. Everything was put away, except the tables, and it was late. The scattered tents at their camp site showed where everyone paired off. They were spaced far apart. Nana could guess why. She had overheard more than once the telltale shushes and sighs of people fooling around, but trying to be discrete. She chose not to identify who or when. But she was envious. Happy for them, yes, but envious all the same.

She slung the bar rag over the faucet to dry in the open air, then turned to retreat to her own tent for some much-deserved rest.

As if placed there by a massive tease of a god, Jail stood, leaning against the wagon they used to pull her tavern. His arms were crossed, his head bowed, eyes shut, as if he had been patiently waiting there for a long while. When she stopped dead in her tracks, and he no longer heard her footsteps, his eyes opened and zeroed in on her. 

Nana startled. She'd assumed Jail had already gone to bed. Sonohara pulled lookout duty for that night and was likely nestled in the trees with a good view of the surrounding area. Nana forced herself to adopt a relaxed and open stance, smiled at Jail, and rested a hand on her hip. "You're up late," she bantered.

Jail pushed himself off of the wagon, turned to fully face Nana. "I came to help, but you were finished by the time I arrived." His eyes never left hers. That even stare dug through Nana's false calm, burrowed into her brain.

She countered by meeting his stare with her own, as though challenging him. "You're a terrible liar."

At that, the corners of Jail's mouth turned up in a slight smile. "I am an _excellent_ liar," he declared. He started towards Nana, the smile growing as he neared her. "You simply have a keen ear."

Nina's spine straightened when he started walking towards her. She stood her ground, lifted her chin, dared him to continue. Where his smile grew, hers shrank, the façade of calm and controlled soon replaced with what she truly felt. That pressure. That hunger. His presence amplified it. The way he looked at her. The way he spoke to her. His very footsteps and the way he measured them out, drawing out her anticipation. She clenched her jaw and gulped, barely perceptible, though she rightly assumed Jail picked up on it. The wickedness in his smile confirmed that well enough. She didn't speak because she didn't trust her voice. Instead, she stayed rooted to her spot, watched the lieutenant move toward her, allowed him to say what he had to say.

He stopped at her side, as though he intended to walk past her, their shoulders touching, their sides pressed together. He couldn't see her, and she couldn't see him, because both were stared to the front, into a blurry abyss to which neither paid attention. He stood there for a moment, perfectly still but for his breath, and waited for to Nana's reaction. She shifted her weight so she leaned against him a little more, pressing her side to his. His eyes narrowed. That settled it. He spoke quietly, as he usually did. "Meet me in my tent tonight. I'd like to start paying back my debt, if you're ready to let me."

Just like that, Nana was left alone. Jail retreated, walked past Nana and left her staring, open-mouthed, into the night. He was so forward. So sure of himself. Typically, Nana would ignore a demand like that, seeing it as nothing but drunken ramblings of lonely, horny men.

But Jail was none of those things. Not lonely. Not drunk. And certainly not horny. But then, her yardstick for measuring men was Licht, the incorrigible pervert who, _somehow_ , attracted every girl in their entourage. _Including me,_ she mused.

"Be there in ten," she said to the open air, as if he could hear her. She _really_ wanted to freshen up before meeting with Jail. Feeling and hearing the tension in his voice, she knew there was a lot of hidden potential in his promise. She was _dying_ to see what he had in mind. Her legs obeyed her commands again, and she hurried to grab a change of clothes from her tent on the opposite side of their camp from where Jail's was. She then made her way to the river to have a quick dunk in the river to wash off the day's sweat and grease.

The second she stepped into the water, she regretted it. It was _cold._ This was the sort of bath she would take if she was trying to _avoid_ feeling hot and horny for a guy. She grit her teeth, waded further into the water, until she could kneel down and let the current pass over her. It was gentle here, but still chilled her to the bone. It didn't matter. She wanted to be clean enough to not smell like stale bar food and distillery.

After a few minutes, she jumped out of the river, biting back a squeal of distress. Her body could no longer take the cold, and she toweled herself off as fast as she could. Her hands shook, her body shivered in an attempt to generate warmth. She threw her clothes on, huddled for a minute to warm up enough to not vibrate her way into Jail's tent. It wouldn't be any good to show up freezing to death. It especially wouldn't be good to show up with the appearance of being nervous or tightly-wound. _Priorities._

Nana tiptoed her way through their camp, sneaked through the tables and tents, maintaining an illusion that nobody could _possibly_ know what was going on. No movement from any of the others, though her senses were distracted. She neared Jail's tent. Her lips and tongue tingled with excitement. She reached for the tent flap, her pulse palpable in her fingertips. She bent down to enter his tent, disappearing into it, into the low-lit space where Jail waited for her.

"Jail?" she called out softly, her eyes adjusting to the new space. There was no answer, no rustling of fabric to give her a hint to his whereabouts. She pawed forward, attempted to locate the lieutenant, or a hint of his location. He _had_ invited her for tonight. He wouldn't be so stupid as to stand her up, would he?

Her anxiety started to grow. He was not here. Maybe he had to take care of something first. He never said things he didn't mean. She didn't misunderstand. This wasn't her being stupid.

While she was distracted by her thoughts, the gentle flap of the tent opening didn't register. Jail saw Nana enter his tent and heard her rustling around inside. He held his breath for a long moment, gathering his resolve. He sneaked in behind her, as quick and quiet as he could muster.

"Nana."

He spoke in his normally quiet voice, though somehow the sound rolled over Nana like a wave of pure adrenaline. She shivered from the sound, her breath hitched in her throat. "Yes," she answered, willing her excitement be under control. Her fingers twitched, impatient to touch the man. She curled her hands into fists, just in case he could see.

Her voice sounded strained. Jail peered at Nana. She appeared a little distressed, but it was not nervousness he detected. He reached out to place a hand on her arm in an attempt to calm her nerves. "Are you all right?" he asked, her skin cool to the touch.

"Yes," she repeated herself in the same tone, swallowing back a violent shudder.

"Don't lie to me," he warned her, his tone betraying that warning with a rasp to his voice that sounded much more like a promise to Nana. Her jaw slackened, and she let out a breath she had held. His hand was gentle on her arm, but from the point of contact, Nana felt electricity spidering out to the rest of her body. She reacted to him, drawing her arm along his hand until her own found its way into his. She loosely laced their fingers together, the pressure she'd felt all day morphing into purpose. She reached up with her other hand and touched it to his chest, which to her surprise was bare and also quite cold to the touch. _Did he dunk himself in the river, too?_

Knowing he'd pulled a similar stunt as her made her smile, a genuine, happy expression. "You went for a swim?"

Jail shook a little with a chuckle. "I did."

Nana laughed lightly. "So did I. And, I'm a little cold. That's why it sounds like I've lied," she admitted to him.

"That, I believe," Jail nodded, squeezing Nana's hand. "I have a bedroll you can warm up in, if you'd like." His voice was well-controlled, but Nana picked up on something in the way he spoke that pulled at her.

"What if I just lie on top of the bed roll?" she suggested, her fingernails scratching at the skin on his chest. "We could warm each other up instead."

Nana heard a slow breath as Jail drew in air. When he exhaled, he spoke, his voice a half-sigh, half-growl. "If that's what you want." Her heart leapt at his words. He started forward, through Nana, slowly guided her to where he normally slept. She easily went back, their hands breaking contact and his body connecting when he stepped forward. She found his arms, gripped them with her hands, felt his solid mass of muscle against her torso and abdomen, thrilled to feel his skin on her. He supported her as she leaned back, lying her down on the bed roll.

That brief moment in his arms tormented Nana. He was being a proper gentleman, making sure she was comfortable. This was different. She didn't know what she expected from the lieutenant, whether he would be methodical, slow, even, or if he would be efficient, quick, and dirty. Either way, there was no losing for Nana.

A moment passed, and Nana reached out to touch Jail, who still knelt beside her. "Hey," she tested, "the whole 'warming each other up' thing only works if we're touching each other," she emphasized by tracing her palm up his side and over his chest, where she felt his heart pounding. 

In spite of his hammering heart, Jail's voice was even. "You're right," he agreed, leaning into Nana's touch. He reached out, slid a hand under her shoulder and gently tugged. "Will you lie on your belly?"

Nana chuckled quietly, then wordlessly turned over, resting her head in her crossed arms. For the seconds she lie flat on her belly, she felt a hum of anticipation go through her like an undercurrent, swirling around in her chest. She heard Jail move, then felt him rest his knees on either side of her hips, settling down to sit on the back of her legs, leaned forward and hands pressed to her shoulder blades. He worked his hands over her skin, pressing down into the muscle, big, sweeping motions. There was a tension in her shoulders she had ignored, and as he found a particularly sore area, she felt a pop, and groaned gratefully in relief. Her eyes slid shut, and she enjoyed the attention, the lieutenant dutiful in his shoulder massage.

Jail felt that pop in her shoulder and grunted when she groaned, that sound of relief and pleasure going straight from his ears to his groin. He was grateful that she didn't squirm around under him. Where he was sitting, if she moved around a lot, she would definitely feel his cock hardening, and given how she had been acting around him lately, she'd speed up what he had planned for the evening, and he wasn't confident he'd want to resist her. He started moving his hands down her back, satisfied that her shoulders were well taken care of, his palm heels pressing from the sides of her spine, out toward her ribs in firm, but gentle technique.

Nana melted in Jail's hands. Sure, she'd had a professional masseuse work her over before, but this was something else. There was care in his touch. Her nerves calmed, and her body warmed from his touch and from the improved blood flow the relaxation brought from his massage. Her eyes fluttered open when his hands left her back as she prepared to move. Jail shifted, leaning forward, his hands on either side of Nana on the ground, and he brought himself down gently onto her, his chest to her back, lining up and nestling his groin against her ass. That activated Nana again. Her eyes flew open and she looked over her shoulder, trying to see what was going on. She felt Jail's lips on her opposite shoulder, his warm breath heating her skin further. Nana whimpered softly, curled her back and pressed her ass up against Jail in response, feeling his length against the cleft in her buttocks. Though they were still clothed, the contact thrilled Nana. She craved more of his touch, and made no show of hiding that, her neediness apparent in the way she squirmed against him.

Jail let out a hoarse breath. With every movement Nana made, he felt his resolve tested. He bowed his head against Nana's shoulder, his mouth against her skin, the flat of his teeth pressed there, his tongue tasting her. Her whimper made his adrenaline surge. Her squirming caused a friction between them that, after a short amount of time, had him flexing his hips just slightly, in time with her pressing back against him. "Nana," he breathed out, his hands moving from the floor to slide up and down her curves. He knew his weight pressed down on her this way, so listened for any sounds of protest or distress. He hummed breathlessly against the back of her neck, sounding suspiciously like a moan of his own.

Nana's jaw slackened, her face twisted in a silent groan of pleasure at the feeling of his hands against her sides. She shifted and propped herself up on her elbows, offering herself enough room to breathe while still feeling his weight on her. She felt heat spread through her body, a pulsing, rhythmic sensation that originated from Jail and rushed into her.

Jail felt Nana shift and did his best to aid her, though she didn't need much. He noticed she propped up on her elbows and, possessed by a new desire, slid his hands under Nana, cupping her ample bosom. He puffed a long sigh against the back of her neck, causing her to shiver under him. "You're right," he noted, "warming up together was a brilliant plan."

Nana bowed her head and grinned, and though he couldn't see it, she knew he could hear it in her voice. "You know," she started, "it works better if we're skin to skin." She paused for a moment, feeling him hesitate, as though processing her words. "Warming up, I mean," she teased him, looking over her shoulder at him and smiling a wicked, devilish smirk. "I think that'd put my brilliant plan right over the top. Wouldn't you?"

Jail paused, then gave a smirk that rivaled her own wickedness. "You're right about that, too," he agreed. "Something they teach in survival training. You remembered." He reared up, releasing Nana and shrugging off the open shirt he had worn back to his tent. He rolled off of her, and she rolled over and sat up, looking on Jail, taking stock of him.

He was still wearing his glasses, because _of course_ he was. His top had been discarded by the time she could look at him, her eyes finally adjusted to the low light. He wore a modest pair of shorts, no doubt the sleep wear he camps in. But nothing else.

She, too hadn't worn much after her dip in the river. Just a wrap for her chest and her own pair of shorts. Something simple that she'd sleep in, too. She blushed, then, realizing that she'd planned on staying with Jail through the night, a jolt traveling from her throat to her cunt, her nipples hardening from the thought, now, instead of from the cold.

Jail sat patiently on his knees next to Nana, looking in her general direction, taking in the entire sight before him. He noticed everything, the blush, her nipples, the hesitation. He knew she wanted this. He wondered if she was overwhelmed, rooted to her spot. He was completely clueless about her reasoning, until he figured out she was staring openly at him, her eyes fixed on him. "Hmm," he eyed her from the side of his glasses. He reached out, found the clasp on Nana's chest band, and unhooked it.

Nana, seeing what Jail was doing, made no moves to stop him. Her breath quickened, then she felt the pressure around her bust line relax, and the strip of fabric loosen and start to fall. She let it go, allowed the garment to be cast aside. She knew she had a good-sized chest, and had caught Jail glancing at it when he thought she wasn't paying attention. The fact that he had his hands all over them a moment ago also helped her to be okay with him stripping her. When the fabric fell away from her, she ran her tongue over the edge of her teeth, her eyes hooded and her desire for him barely contained.

Jail hummed again in deep appreciation for the sight before him. He stood, then pulled Nana up and close to him, bringing her into a slow, deliberate kiss, his hands roaming up and down her back, ass, and thighs. He felt her fingernails scratching at his back, and resisted her attempts to make the kiss any deeper or more fervent than the pace he had set. He had a goal in mind, and he wouldn't allow himself to be swayed just yet. Finally, on one of his passes down her back, his hand slid underneath the pair of shorts she wore, touching her bare butt, the smooth skin and dense muscle there fitting nicely in his hand. He broke off the kiss, looking down at Nana, his lips parted, breath coming in slight puffs. 

Nana groaned in frustration at being made to wait, then followed Jail's lead. This slow, methodical method of kissing was unfamiliar to her, but once she fell in step with Jail, she saw the merit in it. This wasn't the animal lust she was used to. He wanted to _feel_ her, and wanted her to _really feel_ him, too. This wasn't an explosive thirty seconds of passion. No, he intended to make good on his promise. Right now, Nana felt the quality of her growing lust for Jail, something much different than she's ever felt. He left her wanting more. His attention on her was full. His movements were deliberate. No, this wasn't some guy trying to get his nut and then walk away.

While she was processing those thoughts, Jail pulled back, his hand firmly on her bare ass. His other hand moved to join it on her other butt cheek, then pulled her against him in gentle, nudging strokes. Jail bowed his head against Nana's shoulder, his breathing measured, but shaky. "I _really_ want you," he admitted, planting kisses along her neck and shoulder.

Nana trembled in his hold, her arms around his waist, her nails still testing the skin on his back. Her barely-contained lust threatened to ruin her. She _knew_ he wanted her, but hearing him say the words out loud made her feel like she was struck by lightning. She felt his lips on her neck, and when he hit a particularly sensitive spot, she mewled next to his ear. "I want you, too," she answered, her brain too stupid in the moment to formulate a better reply than that.

It didn't matter. It was good enough. Jail took in a big breath and sighed, and she felt a shudder go through his body. He rewarded her admission by adding his tongue to the kisses on her neck and shoulder, pulling even more sounds from Nana, small, barely-audible moans and whimpers. He touched his tongue against her ear lobe and whispered, "The others will hear." There was amusement in his voice, but he wasn't mocking her.

_Shit. The others._ Nana had entirely forgotten them. A moment passed, and she decided, "I don't care." She emphasized how little she cared by countering Jail's assault with a love bite of her own, lavishing Jail's pulse point with gentle nips and kisses. He shuddered again, his arms tensing, as though fighting an urge. Nana chuckled openly, pulling Jail down so she could whisper to him, "I've had to listen to them for _days._ If they catch us now, I. Do. Not. Care." SHe punctuated every word with another small bite, causing Jail to gasp, his composure to slip at the idea of being caught with Nana. 

"Woman," he growled at her, his fingers curling against the curve of her ass, his grip on her tightening. 

That had the opposite effect of what he was going for, Nana sighing deeply and melting into him further. "Yes, Jail, please, harder," she moaned quietly into his ear. 

That snapped Jail's control. He snarled at her, raked his hands down her thighs, stripping her of her shorts and underclothes in one go. He then stood up to his full height and spun her around, pulling her roughly back against him, her back to him once again. One hand grasped a breast, the other slid down her front to rub along her cunt, pulling her back into him with every new stroke. "Is this what you wanted?" he growled at her through grit teeth.

Nana yelped, a hushed sound, because she was still _attempting_ to be polite to the others. She arched her back and nuzzled her butt up against him when he pulled her back into him. "Oh, yes, I do," she breathed, her hands coming up to cover his, the one on her breast, and the one rubbing her slit. She adjusted his hold just a little, and she gave a genuine gasp and threw her head back at the sensation it caused.

Jail, in an effort to stifle his feral groan, bit gently down on the crook of Nana's shoulder, holding her against him while he ground forcefully against her. She keened in his grip, her brow knit together in effort, at the mercy of his hold.

She _liked_ being at his mercy. She felt the coil in her belly tighten with every new movement, and the feeling of his teeth in her flesh nearly ripped a full-blown outcry from her. The hand helping him touch her cunt flew up to her mouth and she covered it before the sound could escape, instead the scream muffled. She felt his cock, hard as iron sliding between her ass cheeks, and she looked, hazy-eyed, in Jail's direction. "Fuck me, Jail. Fuck me. I don't even care how, damn it, just do it!" She was all out of control and fucks to give. It had been a very long time since anybody touched her this way with her consent. She would ride him if she had to. She needed him, _now_.

Jail huffed a laugh. "Just what I was about to say," he hissed at her, nipping at the edge of her ear. He pulled back from her, hurrying to shove his shorts off of his body. She never got a good look at him, once again pulled against him, this time completely skin-on-skin. The new sensation filled her with a neediness she didn't recall every having. She rubbed herself against him, feeling his flesh along her ass crack, then the head of his cock pressing gently to her asshole. She tensed hard, then relaxed when he pulled away and slid up her cleft again. It thrilled her. Every nerve in her body came alive, and she wanted to feel _more._

Her movements made Jail slip a time or two, and he felt the tip of him sink just inside of her ass, not enough to pierce her ring, but enough to make her writhe in his grip. He growled, a low, guttural sound. He teased her again, this time intentionally teasing her asshole with his cock, feeling her squirming, then relaxing when he pulls away. He nuzzled her neck, his hands back to where they were. She felt so damn good in his arms. She was slick with desire for him. He breathed hotly against her ear, "Say it again." He wanted to hear her say it, both to affirm it's what she wanted, and for his own pleasure.

Nana nearly vibrated in his hands. She leaned her head up, her tongue ran along his jawline, and she squirmed in his grip. "Fuck me. Jail. Now."

His chest rumbled when she spoke, and he pulled back to line up more properly with Nana. He pushed her gently forward, bending her over, tilting her hips to expose her cunt to him. He felt the heat rolling off of her right before he pressed the head of his cock against her opening.

Nana, bent in that compromising situation, had nothing to hold onto, nothing to grab for dear life as he sank into her. She bit her lip, her whimpering groans stifled, but not silenced. She felt him stretching her to accommodate. She loved the feeling, her face tilted up to the ceiling. He wasted no time, his hands on her hips pulling her against him as he started to move, sliding in and out of her. 

Jail wrapped an arm around Nana's waist, resting his hand on her belly below her belly button, pressing firmly there, his other hand moving to her spine between her shoulder blades, making sure she stays bent down. He knew what he was doing, and wanted her to know it, too.

The new sensation ripped a howl from Nana, unable to stop the sound in time. Jail released her shoulder blades, pulled her back and covered her mouth with his hand. He ground roughly into her, his breath ragged, but controlled. "They definitely heard that," he chuckled to her. At this point, it didn't matter to either of them if the whole group descended on their tent. They were finishing this. He pulled her back so he could growl in her ear, "If they're gonna hear you anyway, Nana," he poured her name off of his tongue, "then let them hear you screaming my name for me." 

Nana was dizzy, tightly wound, completely taken over by her lust. The hand on her lower abdomen had pushed her G-spot up against where his cock thrust at a punishing pace, their bodies smacking together. _This_ is more what she was used to. _This_ was what she was comfortable with. Now that she knew Jail was okay with the others catching them, she nodded, whimpering against his hand. She was going to burst. He let go of her mouth and eased her forward again, redoubling his efforts at making her scream for him, each thrust ending in a delicious grind.

His name tore through the air from Nana's lips, her voice hoarse and strangled, jostled by him pounding her from behind. She moaned throatily, her body shaking, held at the edge of orgasm.

Jail slid his hand from her abdomen down to her slit, finding the little nub at the apex of her folds. He dipped his fingers between her pussy lips to wet his fingers, then slid them over her clit in gentle, rhythmic strokes. Seconds after he began that, Nana twisted in his grip, her howl ripped from her throat. She clenched at him, and in a blinding moment, Jail careened off the edge with her, grunting harshly as he came. 

Nana, breathing heavily, rested her hands on her knees. She shuddered with aftershocks. She felt him pull back from her, felt his cock leave her body. She moved to stand up straight, then was spun around again, Jail planting a final, fervent kiss on her lips. The lust from it was gone, his libido spent for the moment, but his enthusiasm remained. He kept kissing her, as if to tell her that that was only a taste of what's to come.

Just outside Jail's tent, the rest of the group had gathered. A few of them looked quite pleased with themselves, while a couple, wearing frowns, handed cash over to the victors of an apparent bet on how long it would take the two of them to _finally_ do something about their attraction to each other.


	2. The Next Morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nana and Jail face the group after their night together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm unfamiliar with the manga. I guess everything here is going to be AU, because I don't know what happens. If there's something I get horribly wrong, be merciful. :)

Slowly, the morning came to Nana.

First, the sounds of sizzling and dishes clattering teased the edges of her consciousness. The sound of people speaking, though hushed, or maybe far away, followed. Her sense of space started to awaken, and she felt a familiar cramp that came with resting in one position for too long. She turned her body, rolling onto her side and toward where the light hit the tent. Nana grumbled at that visual intrusion, though shortly after, the smells that accompanied the sounds started to come to her.

_Food!_ Nana's belly growled, and she heard a familiar voice. "Time to eat." The voice was of hushed, gravelly quality. Jail's voice. Nana warmed from the sound of it, a blush coloring her skin from her hairline to her toes.

Still, she looked over at him, having turned away from him in her awakening state, an eyebrow arched, the beginnings of a smile on her face. "But first, breakfast." She leaned out to grab her breast band, purposefully smacking Jail with it as she wrapped it around her body and clasped it back in place.

Jail let her bra hit him across the face, the fabric merely a soft formality. He took her meaning. A half-smirk graced his lips. They had both been up late, touching and exploring each other long after their whirlwind fuck, though nothing past a squeeze here or a kiss there. He stood and followed Nana's lead, getting himself dressed in his usual attire while Nana found her shorts and cursed at the fact that she had no blouse, but only a towel to wrap her shoulders in. 

She huffed. "So much for an alibi," she mused in mock-disappointment. She looked up, her eyes glittering with mischief. She watched Jail, now fully dressed, lean over to grab his glasses. She tilted her head at seeing him bare-faced.

Jail chuckled. "I'm sure they would have pretended to believe whatever lie you had cooked up for them." He found his glasses, but before putting them on, caught her staring. He blinked, paused, then placed them on his face, clearing his throat. "Lyne has made breakfast. Or is it lunch?"

Nana blinked away whatever it was that made her stare at Jail when he cleared his throat. "Uh, well, let's see. I can smell, eggs, baked bread, and," a sharp outcry came from the outside, followed by a miserable little whimper. "Ah. Yes. Bacon!" She beamed ear-to-ear, then adopted a look of shock, then horror. "She better not burn down my tavern! Lyne!" Nana scrambled out of Jail's tent.

Jail was left alone, dumbstruck by what he just witnessed. He heard Nana outside, taking stock of what Lyne was doing. At first, she was frantic, as though Lyne wasn't an experienced cook in her own right, beginning to lecture the girl on how flammable bacon grease gets, especially when left on high heat for too long. He waited, listened to the conversation go from immediate, business-related worry, to the awkward silence of having been witnessed spectacularly exploding out of Jail's tent first thing in her morning. He let her twist just a little on her own, a private, sadistic smile on his lips that quickly disappeared. Then, his stomach started to growl, demanding food.

He sighed. He wanted Nana to squirm just a little longer, since she rushed out without a plan. But he was hungry. May as well be merciful for today.

He exited his tent with more grace and dignity than Nana because it was his tent, and he had no reason to feel out of place. He pointedly ignored the open stares of the rest of their group, opted instead to get himself a plate of breakfast and sit at a table that had not been stored the night before. He sat quietly, began to eat, continued to ignore the group, including Nana, who looked towards him with pleading eyes for some kind of backup.

He pretended to just notice everyone standing around the table, wide-eyed, slack-jawed, as though they were all new to this whole idea of sex while camping. He knew at least one pair here had been partaking liberally in those practices. "Hmm?" He regarded them all without a hint of interest, half of his attention still on eating his food.

"Lieutenant," Pele started, his usual, awkward, laid-back self now slightly on edge and a little nervous about prying into his superior's personal life. "So, Nana. In your tent. All morning. What's up with that?"

Jail blinked slowly, swept a glance over the entire area, looking at every person in the area, taking his time, looking directly at Nana who looked relieved that they were bothering him, now, instead of her. His eyes fell again on Pele, where he stared for a couple of beats. "All night," he answered, taking another bite before continuing.

The group all fell down, their feet twitching in the air. They quickly recovered, then leapt back up, crowding Jail. They accosted him with more questions. "All night?" "Why was she there?" "What's going on?" They asked as if they didn't know, but the hedonistic glint in their eyes told him they knew _exactly_ what had happened.

Jail set down his fork and sat up straight in his chair. "We slept together. We're going to keep sleeping together. Now, if you don't mind, I'm hungry. It's been a long night."

He left it at that, letting the chips fall where they may. He quietly finished his food while he listened to the group try and get more information out of him, then finding that fruitless, turn to each other for the new, exciting gossip, specifically between Hina and Nana.

Nana was at once relieved that he had laid it all out, and mortified that he had been so blunt about it. She groaned in dismay. She won't get any work done today, now that she'll be fielding questions from the rest of the team. Still, she smiled despite herself when Hina jostled her, clearly very happy and excited that Nana and Jail had gotten together. Apparently, the young lady had no idea there was a distinction between sex and love. Hopefully, she would never have to experience that particular lesson. Subconsciously, she cast Licht a scowling glare, putting him on notice, though he wasn't even looking in her direction, instead focused on dishing himself up for breakfast.

Her stomach growled again, her mission to save her tavern having delayed her satisfying the hunger. She grabbed a plate and dug in, loudly complimenting Lyne's cooking. Though the dish was simple, it was seasoned well, and cooked to perfection. 


End file.
